


Always, My Pillar of Strength

by starlitcities



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Cheating, Drunk Sex, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trans girl Yachi, Unrequited Love, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3952612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlitcities/pseuds/starlitcities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oikawa,” Matsukawa mutters, surprised more than anything. “It’s two in the morning, what are you—?”</p><p>“What’s wrong with me, Mattsun?” Oikawa pulls at the hem of his shirt, the sopping fabric clinging to his skin and leaking water onto the doormat. “Anybody, everybody I know would <i>kill</i> to have me. And the only one I want to feel that way won’t even look at me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always, My Pillar of Strength

**Author's Note:**

> This was an old WIP that I dusted off and completely revamped, so I guess you could say it's an entirely new project.
> 
> Total time taken: 14 hours
> 
> Also, some songs I used for writing were:  
> Ugly Truth, Sinners - Lauren Aquilina  
> I'll Be Good - Jaymes Young  
> Circles - Passenger

 

 

“ _Being with you and not being with you is the only way I have to measure time_ ”

\- Jorge Luis Borges

 

 

* * *

 

  


Oikawa used to swear up and down by all the forces in the world that he hated the rain. But these days, he’s actually come to enjoy when it rains. The rain is quiet, drowning out all other noises that could be irritating. It gives an excuse to pull hoods over and keep heads down. The rain is great nowadays, also because it gives Oikawa a good story to cover up why his face is wet.

“ _Oh, it’s just the rain,”_ He says, and wipes those secret tears with the back of his hand.

Oikawa Tooru has always had a strong presence. Ever since he was a child, born with round eyes and rosy cheeks and skin so soft you could call him a doll, everyone has always loved him. He’s never once had trouble making friends and keeping them. Even when he had that two year period of sporting braces, not one joke was thrown his way about the metal wires in his mouth.

So it feels odd that he stands here in Matsukawa’s doorway, heart heavy and eyes brimmed with burning tears with no inkling of importance at all.

“Oikawa,” Matsukawa mutters, surprised more than anything. “It’s two in the morning, what are you—?”

“What’s wrong with me, Mattsun?” Oikawa pulls at the hem of his shirt, the sopping fabric clinging to his skin and leaking water onto the doormat. His normally fluffy and tousled hair clings to his forehead and neck, dark chocolate and dripping wet. His cheek is slightly swollen, lip crusted with dry blood, and although his eyes are red and threatening to let tears fall, he smiles. “Anybody, everybody I know would _kill_ to have me. And the only one I want to feel that way won’t even look at me.”

Matsukawa’s expression changes, from confused to concerned, and he pushes the door further open and steps closer. Oikawa’s smile falls from his face as he looks up, and it doesn’t take much to see pain embedded behind building tears. Matsukawa chews on his lower lip and extends his arms out. He doesn’t get them fully outward before Oikawa rams his face straight into Mattsun’s shoulder.

“Mattsun… he’s _gay_. I’d understand this heartache a lot more if he had a girlfriend, but he doesn’t. He’s got a _boyfriend_ and it isn’t me.”

Matsukawa isn’t sure if he should feel guilty for supporting Oikawa, entirely convinced that he had just as good a shot, if not better, than everyone else.

He can think about that later.

“We should get you dried off,” he sighs, feeling Oikawa shake and shiver in his arms. He doesnt want to think about the mixture of tears and snot flooding against the fabric, and instead kicks the door shut behind him.

“Oi, Mattsun why are you out of—oh shit.”

Matsukawa shoots a glare at his roommate. “Don’t just stand there.”

“Right.”

“Er, sorry. I know it’s a bad time,” Oikawa mutters, “but could you just overlook this one, Makki?”

Hanamaki breezes past Oikawa, knocking his fist gently on the top of his head. “No way, you owe us big for this one, Cap.” His voice is warm, and Oikawa knows he’s being overly kind, and he’ll probably go the kitchen and prepare a flurry of snacks, because Oikawa always gets hungry after a bout of crying, and both Hanamaki and Matsukawa will stay up with him until he’s feeling better. They’ll proceed to stay up with him, even as Oikawa lulls off to sleep, before they tuck him in bed and one of them takes the couch.

Thinking about just how amazing his friends are has him in another fit of bitten back sobs.

Matsukawa leaves to grab a fresh change of clothes for Oikawa. He steals from Hanamaki, since his own clothes hang a little too loose off Oikawa’s shoulders. “I’ll leave these for you—”

“Mattsun?”

Matsukawa looks up from the stool he placed the clothes on, and his eyes widen at the sight of fading marks across the expanse of his chest and collarbones. They disappear down his caramel skin and duck beneath the water surface. “Jesus Christ, Oikawa, what are those?!”

Oikawa tucks his knees quickly against his chest to hide them, biting down on his quivering lip. “These are...um…sorry! Don’t look at me for a bit!”

Matsukawa kneels down against the side of the tub, pressing one of his large hands on top of Oikawa’s head. Oikawa can’t be cold, but he shakes anyway. Mattsun takes note of the marks across the back of his neck and shoulders as well. “Oikawa…”

“No! My crying face is too pretty to be seen!”

“I’ve never heard of a pretty crying face.”

“I’m an exception, Mattsun.”

“Your crying face is actually quite ugly, Oikawa.”

“So rude! Be sensitive for once! Be nice to me!”

Matsukawa doesn’t have to say anything. Moments later Oikawa picks his head off of his kneecaps and drops it on his friend’s shoulder. Matsukawa is thankful he hadn’t put a new shirt on yet for this very reason.

“Iwa-chan says the same thing, you know.”

“What, about your face?”

Oikawa nods.

“It’s true,” Matsukawa’s lips twitch into a small smile, “it’s one of the few sides of you that isn’t perfect.”

He feels Oikawa give a little bit of laughter against the dark blue of his shirt, now drenched all the way down his shoulder, and he knows it is a bit safer to bring up the elephant in the room. “Oikawa. These marks.”

“Do I have to explain?”

Matsukawa hesitates. “Only… if you want to.”

At one point or another, Oikawa will have to spill about it. Well, he won’t _have_ to, but somewhere down the line he always tells Mattsun and Makki everything, so why try to hide this?

“It’s exactly what it looks like. We fucked. A lot.”

Matsukawa shudders at the the mental image of anything worse than the assemblage of soft bruises on Oikawa’s skin. He knows he told Oikawa not to fall victim to desire, but reprimanding him now would just be overkill. Clearly, by marks embedded in skin, and crying harder than ever is lesson enough.

“What is his name?”

“I figured he would have told you by now.”

Matsukawa rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. “We’ve all been a bit out of touch. I think I might come off slightly biased, though.”

Oikawa cocks his head in confusion.

“He thinks I’m mostly yours, I’m sure,” Mattsun admits, “and he wouldn’t exactly be wrong.”

“But you and Makki always stay neutral!”

“You really think he would see it that way?”

Oikawa looks down at his hands, watching the skin begin to prune against the water. “Come on, time for you to get out. Makki already has your favorite snacks ready.”

Matsukawa goes to pull away from the tub’s edge, but Oikawa snags him by his shirt. Matsukawa peeks back to find the brunet looking sheepish, the way he does when he’s vulnerable. “Mattsun...you and Makki both I… thanks.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“I mean it,” Oikawa growls, but the mood is already lighter. Matsukawa reaches over, initially to flick Oikawa in the forehead. But he knows that kind of move is something Iwaizumi would pull, and Oikawa is probably feeling worse than he ever has in the past when he’s done this. So he leans down, and instead of being snarky, he kisses the top of his head. It’s chaste, nothing special, but it does so much, solidifying that Mattsun is grateful for Oikawa, a _your welcome_ for all the times he’s been there.

“It may not be the same, but we love you too, in a way,” Mattsun murmurs. He pulls away quick and shoves Oikawa’s head down; no one is allowed to look at a flustered Matsukawa. “Now hurry up, we’re both tired you know. The world doesn’t stop, not even for the Grand King.”

Oikawa takes a little while to dry off, pulling himself into clothes and towel drying his hair as fast as possible. He glares hard at the blurry reflection in the mirror, wiping off a spot to grimace at the swollen red around his eyes, his lips chewed raw. He pulls at the collar of the shirt to see the marks faded a bit more than before, and it slightly scares him. As painful as they are, he wants them to stay forever, a better reminder than his mind alone that it was all real, last night where everything seemed fine, as it should be.

He pads down the hallway and into the living room, shyly tugging at his bangs when both Makki and Mattsun have made the space of the living room into a fort, a bed for three. Fatigue washes over Oikawa in the same instance, and he crawls into the space between them, flopping down onto the pillow and reaching for something to munch on.

“Do you have work tomorrow?” Oikawa asks the both of them.

“Mattsun does, but I can get the day off, if you like,” Makki offers.

“Don’t make me feel any more pathetic,” Oikawa sighs, and when Makki insists that he doesn’t mind, Mattsun reaches across Oikawa to smack Makki across the head.

“Don’t give him any reason to be lazy, Oikawa.”

“Jus’ trying to be a good friend,” Hanamaki sneers. He turns back to Oikawa and crunches down on a chip, freezing when he sees a bite mark peer out from the collar of the shirt. His eyes flicker up to Matsukawa, who just sends him a knowing look.

Hanamaki raises an eyebrow, to which Matsukawa just shrugs his shoulders.

“Your silent conversations always were irritating, even in high school,” Oikawa sighs, “so you haven’t heard either, then.”

“Ah, wrong. I heard about the boyfriend. Not about this, though,” Makki shakes his head.

“You didn’t tell me?” Matsukawa asks, sounding a little hurt.

“Hey, we’re neutral, remember? Besides, Iwaizumi totally thinks you’re biased towards Oikawa.”

Matsukawa chuckles and ruffles Oikawa’s hair with an “ _I told you so”_ attached. Matsukawa drifted closer to Oikawa, while Hanamaki drifted closer to Iwaizumi. It’s just the way things worked out, even if they all four are still extremely close in the end.

“Well the cat’s out of the bag, so why don’t you two start filling me in?” Matsukawa asks, and casually accepts Oikawa feeding him a chip.

Hanamaki and Oikawa exchange glances briefly. “Did you want to start?” Hanamaki offers.

Oikawa shrugs but agrees, he may as well get this off his chest while he’s still coherent.

“Well you already know a good piece of it, so we’ll start with the boyfriend,” He clucks his tongue.

He tries to figure out where to start with this story, and as he fishes into his memory, the marks against his skin begin to tingle.

  


* * *

 

  


“What the hell was that?”

Iwaizumi sucks air into his lungs as he slows his jog back to Oikawa. “What was what?” He asks, a little stunned by the harsh edge to Oikawa’s voice.

“Did that guy just...do what I think he did?” Oikawa’s eyes are fixated on the corner of Iwaizumi’s mouth, not only watching his lips quiver in some kind of excitement, but staring hard at the spot next to that, where only seconds ago another pair of lips had settled against it.

“Oh, well…” Iwaizumi fumbles over words as the tips of his ears burn, and it only confirms Oikawa’s past suspicions. His stomach drops out and his heart throbs painfully in his chest, so hard that he reaches for it against his jacket.

“What’s his name?”

“Oikawa, it’s not a big—”

“My best friend, whom I’ve known for twenty years, who hates being touched, just let someone kiss him and he’s telling me it’s not a big deal? Oh, because that’s totally casual. Yeah, it’s nothing!”

“Stop making this about you—”

“About me? Wow, I would _never_. You think so little of me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whirls around on his heel and walks off. He knows his long stride is a bit much for Iwaizumi, which is perfect, because maybe he can walk off the red that blurs his vision, and the pain against his palms as he digs his nails into them, or the soreness from his jaw that is clenched so tight.

Iwaizumi has never hidden anything from Oikawa in all their years together. Not a damn thing. But the one thing he hides, Oikawa has every right to be bitter about.

Maybe he doesn’t but he’s beyond logic at this moment.

“Wait a second, Oikawa! Hey!”

Oikawa doesn’t slow down. He briskly power walks all the way back to the apartment, nearly breaking the door off its hinges as he barrels inside, slamming groceries onto the counter so hard he may or may not have broken a jar of marinara sauce.

“Why are you so angry?!” Iwaizumi asks, breathless, shutting the door behind him in a frenzy.

“I’m not,” Oikawa spits.

He doesn’t get to march into his bedroom before Iwaizumi yanks him by his elbow and slams him backwards against the kitchen counter. “Stop it! Stop! Look… I’m—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Oikawa snaps, and Iwaizumi sees an expression he doesn’t often see directed right at him. Cold, ruthless, his jaw set and knuckles white.

“Okay, fine, I won’t apologize. Just don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what? Like I’m disappointed? Or maybe upset? When the hell were you going to tell me you suddenly got into a relationship? When were you going to tell me you were _gay_?!”

Iwaizumi cringes, and while he wants to shout back, he knows it won’t do any good.

“Did you think I’d reject you…?” Oikawa asks with wide eyes holding a fraction of sympathy, or rather, empathy.

“No, I don’t know. It wasn’t easy, I _tried_ to say something. I just wanted to figure it out on my own,” Iwaizumi sighs, thumbs smoothing over the skin on Oikawa’s arms that he’d been gripping so tight, “I should have said something earlier, I know.”

Oikawa looks away silently. Iwaizumi reaches for him, bringing his face into his hands, and for a split second Oikawa leans into the touch, but he remembers the kiss from a stranger, and pulls away. “Don’t,” he sighs, and slaps Iwaizumi’s hands from him.

He steps backwards, creating some distance, and folds his arms over himself, trying to find something in the room to look at besides Iwaizumi. “What is his name?”

“Nakagawa,” Iwaizumi answers him straight, “Akinari.”

“Oh,” Oikawa shrugs.

Silence dwells between them for too long, and Oikawa tries to turn and head for his room again. Everything hurts, from head to toe, inside and out. He wonders if he’d be less angry if Iwaizumi had been kissed by a girl. At least he could acknowledge that he never had a shot in the first place. But knowing Iwaizumi is in a relationship with another guy just makes it worse.

He was never an option, but there is a slight chance that he could have been.

“Oikawa, don’t walk away from me.”

“I’m not mad,” Oikawa lies, his voice softer now. “I just wish you’d told me sooner. We tell each other everything, that’s how we’ve always been.”

 _Maybe things would be different_ _if you’d told me._

“You think it’s that easy to admit something like that? In this kind of world?”

Oikawa bites his lip. He knows exactly how hard it is, recalling how violently his hands shook as he came out to his sister, his parents, both Mattsun and Makki. Guilt washes over him briefly; the only person close to him that doesn’t know is Iwaizumi, but there’s good reason for that.

And now there’s an even better reason.

Oikawa jumps when he feels Iwaizumi behind him, forehead pressed against his back. It makes his body ache, Iwaizumi being so familiar with him, even now. “I’m an asshole for not saying anything before, alright? But I need you now more than ever.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Oikawa...I don’t know how to do this. _Date_ , I mean.”

“You just do it, Iwa-chan. It’s not something you need—”

“It’s not about you, Oikawa. Swallow your pride for once…”

He hears the waver, the insecurity thick in his voice. It reminds Oikawa of the time when Iwaizumi used to be uncomfortable in his own skin. He used to hate that tan of his, darker than everyone else, marked up with scars and bruises from sports. Oikawa spent countless days trying to show Iwaizumi just how perfect he was.

He wonders now if Iwaizumi truly believed him.

He knows now that Iwaizumi never noticed anything else. None of Oikawa’s passes, subtle hints, nothing.

But Oikawa is better than this. His one sided love had never planned to go anywhere, he refused to get his hopes up for this reason alone. Iwaizumi needs him, and while he wants to lock himself inside his room for days and wallow with his broken heart, he’ll step all over it, like shards of glass. Only for him, only for his best friend.

Oikawa whirls around and folds his arms about Iwaizumi. It’s more out of instinct. Maybe it’s a goodbye, a small consolation prize for losing what he never had. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m perfectly fine with it, and there’s nothing wrong with you.”

Iwaizumi didn’t ask for the comforting reassurance, then again, he never does. He visibly relaxes against Oikawa’s shoulder. “How long has this gone on for?”

“About a month,” Iwaizumi answers meekly.

“You’re doing something right if he’s put up with you for that long.”

Oikawa digs his heel into the floor as though his own heart is beneath it, because hearing Iwaizumi laugh sends something through him that shouldn’t be there. He’s no longer single, no longer Oikawa’s Iwa-chan.

  


* * *

 

  


Oikawa stares at the TV screen, a hollow chuckle rolling out of him at some romantic comedy. He’s already slurped down two bowls of ramen—something even he can make—since Iwaizumi isn’t here to cook. He’s surprised at himself. Whenever something is really damaging, he can’t find it in him to cry, although usually he’s a pretty open canvas about emotional responses.

The clock strikes eleven, and Oikawa is curled up on the couch now, letting some crime, suspense drama numb out anything else racing inside his head. He found time between the movie and this TV show to put his dishes away, and the Oikawa that usually never touches the kitchen—mainly because Iwaizumi has ruled him out of it—spent a good forty five minutes cleaning. He packed all of the dishes inside the dishwasher, scrubbed down the counters and even the sink itself. He took a short shower, short as possible to keep from contemplating life; he has no energy to sing like he usually does.

This heartbreak is weird. He’s seen it before in others, and it’s crippling, visibly, but he seems fine for the most part. He stares at himself in the mirror, not seeing bags under his eyes, no paleness to his complexion, there isn’t any hollow darkness in his gaze.

“I’m a miracle, honestly,” he whispers to himself. He’s kept himself together this well for the sake of his friend, the love of his life. He didn’t even think he could do it.

“Oikawa, I’m back,” the door clicks, and Oikawa watches Iwaizumi discard his keys and wallet onto the counter.

“How did it go?”

Oikawa watches him suppress a smile, and suddenly he doesn’t want to know.

“Fine,” Iwaizumi shrugs, and he looks back at his roommate. He’s beaming, like a kid in a candy store.

“Have I ever told you that your vocabulary is lacking?” Oikawa teases. He scoots over as Iwaizumi drops onto the couch next to him, throwing his arm around and onto the top of the couch. While it isn’t touching Oikawa, it’s still close, and usually Oikawa would snuggle into his side or drop his head onto his lap.

He can’t do that anymore, so he sits still, looking down at his toes and wiggling them outside in, inside out.

He peeks a glance at Iwaizumi, seeing him all dressed up. The dress shirt is a deep maroon, a nice contrast to his skin tone. Of course Oikawa dressed him, Iwaizumi couldn’t even locate his nicer clothes in his closet. The cologne wafts over to him, and Oikawa drinks it all in.

Iwaizumi’s never looked this nice for Oikawa’s sake, and it hurts, and Oikawa is bitter about it, so much that he aggressively changes channels just to have reason to mash his anger into something tangible.

Poor remote.

“Thought you liked that show?”

“Seen it,” Oikawa mumbles.

He lands on some other drama show, something mind numbing again, and puts the remote back down. “You should get some sleep, it’s late,” Oikawa sighs.

He feels Iwaizumi’s gaze burning into him. It takes him everything not to look. He gives in anyway.

“I won’t ask you to talk to me,” Iwaizumi says, leaning forward. He wraps his fingers around the back of Oikawa’s neck and draws their foreheads together. “It’s only fair I let you come to me with this one. But I’m here, you know? I’m worried about you, Oikawa. You’ve been acting strange lately.”

Oikawa’s heart twinges. If Iwaizumi knew him so well, he’d know what was wrong. He’d know that he wants to assault this innocent Nakagawa just out of sheer jealousy. He would know Oikawa is actually a bisexual who hopelessly fell in love with his best friend.

“You don’t even sing in the shower anymore. I miss hearing that, you know?”

Oikawa feels the tears sting the back of his eyes. He can’t cry, not here. Not in front of him.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” Oikawa mumbles.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi’s voice is soft, and Oikawa is already crying. “Come here,” he holds his arms out, the way he always does when Oikawa needs him the most. Oikawa could do it, he could sink into Iwaizumi’s lap and feel arms lock him up safe, rocking back and forth, hands motioning soothing circles into his back. But he won’t.

“You can’t do that anymore, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa smiles, and hastily dries his face.

“Wha—because I’m in a relationship now? Please, you’re still my—”

“That’s the way it works. If I were him, I’d be pretty annoyed that my lover is so familiar with someone else.”

He watches the thoughts whirl around in Iwaizumi’s head. “Oikawa, if he can’t accept you as my best friend then—”

“It’s not about that, Iwa-chan. Think about it. Think about how we are. You think he’d be okay with that?”

He watches it register in Iwaizumi’s expression. The lounging on the couch in a heap, Oikawa jumping onto Iwaizumi’s back, the holding him lovingly while thick with sleep, the innocent cuddling…It all stops.

“I guess you’re right,” Iwaizumi frowns, “but you’re still the most important to me, you know that, right?”

Oikawa flashes a smile at him. “Always,” he says, before he ducks into his bedroom.

The composure slips, and he does his damndest to keep his sobs muffled and silent underneath pillows. The next morning he doesn’t even look at Iwaizumi, he keeps his answers short, and when he heads out for work, he doesn’t even say goodbye.

  


* * *

 

 

“It’s nice to finally meet you! Hajime’s told me quite a bit.”

He calls him Hajime. It’s been three months and he already calls him Hajime.

Oikawa prays the waitress is an assassin. Maybe he can slip her his life savings in check form and end it all right here.

He’s pretty, hair golden and eyes twinkling, long lashes and soft skin. What’s not to like?

Oikawa stretches one of his famous smiles on his lips, flashing a full set of pearly whites, and he watches the man’s expression shift, and the tips of his ears burn. It’s cut short when he feels Iwaizumi kick into his shin from underneath the table.

“Likewise. Although, Iwa-chan doesn’t tell me much about you. Some best friend he is.”

“Hey!” Iwaizumi growls.

“So, Nakagawa-kun.”

“Oh, just call me Aki! Any friend of Hajime’s is a friend of mine!”

Oikawa really wants to reach for his dessert fork and lodge it into this guy’s tonsils. “Aki, then. How did you two meet?”

“You really didn’t tell him anything, that’s so like you,” Nakagawa bumps his shoulder against Iwaizumi’s, sending him a sly smile. Oikawa prays that smile is nothing more than innocent or he’ll throw up his four cheese pasta all over this table.

Nakagawa turns back to Oikawa and bats his lashes excitedly. “We met at a coffee shop, actually. How cliche, right? He looked like he was in a rush, so I decided to pay it forward. He insisted I didn’t, but I couldn’t help it after that. He was too cute.”

Oikawa nearly asks to be dismissed. This guy is a bundle of sunshine, how the hell did he end up with Iwaizumi? He sounds like the kind of guy that watches all the talk shows for moms and listens to the televised doctors with secret remedies for losing weight. He probably knows the food network channels by heart, and his favorite is the Barefoot Contessa. He’s probably part of the Peace Corps.

“I spend one weekend a month at the orphanage to help with fundraisers. I just _love_ those kids.”

Oikawa slides his eyes over to Iwaizumi. When he gets no reaction, he looks back at Nakagawa. “How sweet of you. You’re quite the saint, aren’t you?”

“I think Hajime would beg to differ,” a look passes over his face that sends Iwaizumi leaping for the bathroom. Oikawa feels nausea roll around in his stomach. Oh god, that smile from earlier did mean something else.

“I thought he’d never leave,” Nakagawa laughs, “he’s so _tense_. He’s been worried about this meeting for a long time now. Heavens knows why.”

“You’re his first everything, you know. He’s flying blind here.”

“He’s doing a grand job at it, it’s a wonder he’s been single this long, even,” Nakagawa hums pleasantly.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Oikawa shrugs, taking a longer-than-necessary sip of his margarita. He’s definitely ordering another one of those.

“Oikawa-san, can I ask you something?”

Oikawa should be polite and let him use something more familiar, but he doesn’t like him, so fuck that.

“Sure.”

“How long have you guys been friends?”

Oikawa grows smug. “Almost twenty years now,” he says. Strange Iwaizumi hasn’t said anything by now, but he could care less. He likes making people squirm.

“Wow, you know, they say if a pair stay friends for longer than ten years they’re soulmates!”

“Really? Well look at that, I’ve got a soulmate,” Oikawa flashes a cheesy grin across the table. He freezes when Nakagawa leans over and grips his hands into his own.

“Oikawa-san, I want you to know I really care about Hajime. I would never do anything to hurt him, and while these words may not mean a lot, I’ll prove them to you over time. I haven’t exactly told him in the right words yet, but...I—”

“Stop,” Oikawa snaps, and he bites his cheek. That came out harsher than necessary. Nakagawa looks at him with a slightly dropped jaw, and now Oikawa knows he definitely snapped.

He clears his throat and pulls his hands away from the blonde. “If you expect me to just accept you, you’re wrong. I could care less about what a saint you are. I don’t need your words, I’ll judge you based off of Iwa-chan himself. If you aren’t up to anything, you have nothing to worry about,” Oikawa slides a smile in, warming his words with a soft coating.

“He’s the most important person in my life, but I’m not his mother. You don’t need my blessing. However, step wrong and it’ll be another story.”

Nakagawa chuckles, somewhat nervously. Good timing, because Iwaizumi is back at his seat. One look around the table and he knows something happened, but he leaves it for later. Oikawa’s mood shifts, and while he’s polite, he’s not as cheery as before, and Iwaizumi takes full note of it.

Especially when they get back to the apartment.

“What did you say to him?”

“He tried to get my blessing,” Oikawa snorts, “I just warned him not to hurt you. You know, the best friend routine.”

“He thinks you _hate_ him, Oikawa. What did you say?”

“Exactly what I told you.”

Iwaizumi holds still for a moment, before a flash of anger ripples through him. He bangs his fist against the doorframe in frustration. “You don’t like him, do you?”

Oikawa shrugs at him, giving him the empty look, the one where he doesn’t want to confirm nor deny. “Don’t look at me like that, what is it?”

“I just...think he’s a little too... _goody goody_. But that’s me, Iwa-chan. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot, okay? Just give it time.”

“But you’re supposed to _like_ him already, not get to like him!”

Oikawa digs his heel into the floor again before he walks over to Iwaizumi and flicks his forehead. “I get that you’re new to this whole relationship thing. But calm down, Iwa-chan. Think about the situation we’re in. We’re both judging each other, it happens. Do you like him?”

The question tastes bitter.

“A lot more than I thought I would. I just want this to work. I want you two to get along,” Iwaizumi pulls at his hair in frustration.

“Maybe... I was a little harsh. But you’re my Iwa-chan, so excuse me if I don’t feel bad.”

Iwaizumi peeks at Oikawa, and he smiles. The laughter sends that feeling running through Oikawa again.

He barely gets a wink of sleep, but at least he doesn’t cry this time.

  


* * *

 

 

“ _Fuck! Kami!_ Oh my god!” Oikawa shrieks, slamming the bedroom door shut.

“Oikawa, grow up, would you?” Iwaizumi sighs from the other side.

Oikawa snarls harshly, “didn’t we set ground rules for this kind of shit?”

“You _asswipe_ , we’re not naked!”

Oikawa takes a deep breath, calming his heart rate. It’s only racing out of anger, and while he wants to grab his materials and dash off to work, he plays the good guy—once again—and opens the door.

Sure enough, both of them are completely clothed, and Nakagawa is already sitting up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to break any rules, but the rain was really heavy and we were really tired. I’m really sorry, Oikawa-san!”

Iwaizumi nudges Nagakawa, in a way that irks Oikawa just a bit, because he nudges him that way. Or at least, he used to. “Don’t be, I brought you over.”

“I guess the great Oikawa-san can overlook this. I’m too forgiving sometimes,” Oikawa sighs dramatically, dragging his fingers through his hair and flashing one of his famous grins at the both of them.

“Thank you, are you staying any longer, by chance? Since I’m up I can make us breakfast!” Nakagawa jumps out of bed, and ruffles his hair. “Hajime mentioned you like sweet things?”

Oikawa is silent, mostly because even though Nakagawa is talking to him, no one is looking at him. He’s watching Iwaizumi watch the blonde, and he looks absolutely entranced, like he couldn’t be happier that he just slept beside the guy for a couple of hours. And Nakagawa looks radiant, even as he leans over and kisses his lover, _his_ lover, like he belongs here, like this is their apartment. Oikawa forgets he lives here for a brief moment.

Nausea bites at him again. “I’m pretty picky about food. And I’m running late, anyway.”

“It’s only seven-thirty, you don’t even have to be until ten, right?”

“Wrong. You wrapped up in a relationship makes you forget quite a lot, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa smiles, but it’s full of salt, and Nakagawa even feels the tension.

“Oikawa—”

“Please, stay as long as you like, Aki-chan. Even if I can’t enjoy your cooking, I’m sure Iwa-chan here would love to. As punishment for breaking house rules, I want my kitchen spotless.”

Nakagawa recognizes the _chan_ added to his name, and flushes a brilliant crimson. “Roger!”

Oikawa ducks out of the apartment, heading for work. He’s never worked harder than he did today, so much that his coworkers become curious. The usual hard working Oikawa is in overdrive.

  


* * *

 

 

“Aki-chan? You guys sure are cozy,” Iwaizumi pries.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Oikawa asks, reading a magazine while Iwaizumi prepares dinner.

“You said you didn’t like him.”

“ _You_ said I didn’t like him. I said give it time.”

Iwaizumi spins around and walks away from the stove, marching right up to Oikawa and yanking the magazine from his hands. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Act like I don’t know who you are? I know you inside and out, Oikawa, and you’ve constantly been trying to make me feel like I don’t. What gives?”

Oikawa turns away from him. He doesn’t have the energy to keep composure tonight. “Oikawa, look at me.”

“I have been looking at you,” He says quietly, “when is the last time you looked at me?”

Oikawa doesn’t eat dinner that night, and he hears Iwaizumi banging around angrily in the kitchen. When it quiets down, he figures he might have gone to bed, until he hears the front door click. He walks out of the room to find a plate in the fridge with a note on it.

_I’m sorry. Me and you this weekend?_

Of course Iwaizumi would leave him a plate.

Because he knows Oikawa will eat it at some point.

And he does. He scarves it down in a frantic mess, and after he cleans the plate he calls home.

“Tooru? Oh my god you’re alive?” His sister drawls through the phone.

“Nee-chan,” Oikawa’s chest caves in. He didn’t think he’d longed to hear her voice this badly.

“Tooru, sweetheart what’s wrong? You haven’t been home in forever, is everything alright?”

He spends a good two hours on the phone with her, blubbering through a mess of tears, taking pauses when the words became too much. Eventually he falls asleep, soothed through the phone with endearing words from his sister, and he’s never been more thankful that he has her around until now.

  


* * *

 

 

Oikawa jolts, cracking an eye open at the sound of his door being kicked in. He wonders what deities he pissed off to deserve this kind of treatment, but he can worry about that later. Right now he just wants to sleep. His eyes hurt and his throat is raw; an argument is out of the question.

“Iwa-chan, can we do this later?”

“No, we can’t.”

Oikawa shoots up, backing up against his headboard when standing in the doorway is not Iwaizumi, but his sister, Hanako. She smiles at him, beaming wide and bright and beautiful. “My baby brother and I are going to do some sibling bonding today!”

“Nee-chan…”

“You can’t get out of this. So go on, get yourself in the shower, you look like death warmed over.”

Oikawa sits there for a moment, assessing whether or not he’s dreaming.

Hanako hustles over to him and pulls at his arms. “Come on, slowpoke! Let’s go! We’ll go shopping, my treat, okay?”

“Nee-chan, you came all the way out here?”

She stops tugging, and instead reaches forward to try and fix Oikawa’s hair. It’s a motherly tactic, to be expected since she has her own child. “Believe it or not, Tooru, I know what this is like. And there’s no better cure than time and space. Being holed up in this apartment does you no favors.”

Oikawa watches her lip quiver. “Kami, Tooru, you had me so scared on the phone. You should have seen me, mom and dad would be proud of how fast I got my ass on a train.”

“What about work?”

“It’s my company, I can take a few days for my baby brother.”

“Are you here all weekend?”

“You are so talkative this morning, _yes_ Tooru, I’m here all weekend.”

Hanako goes silent as Oikawa folds his arms around her small waist. She immediately hugs him back, it takes no thinking, she just knows. They sit like that for a bit, in the silence and dim light of Oikawa’s room. “You’re so much bigger than me now, what happened to the cute and tiny Tooru?”

Oikawa says nothing, his hold only grows tighter around his sister. He remembers it too, the feeling of resting against her frame and wondering when the day came that he would outgrow her.

Hanako presses a flurry of kisses against his cheek. "Now come on, get ready! I’ve got a credit card that needs swiping."

Oikawa showers off, letting the water freshen his face and reduce the swelling. He pulls himself into a sweater and jeans, stuffing his wallet into his pocket and moving out into the living room. “Nee-chan, I’m ready.”

He pauses when he sees Iwaizumi standing there with his jacket tucked beneath his arm. That’s right, he was supposed to spend the weekend with him. Iwaizumi is glaring harsh daggers into Oikawa, so hard that he can’t even come up with the words to combat the stare.

“Sorry, Hajime, I’m stealing Tooru for the weekend, I showed up this morning,” Hanako slides in, “is that alright?”

Iwaizumi’s expression softens; Hanako isn’t lying, and he can’t really argue her. “Yeah, it’s fine, I’m sure he’s missed you,too.”

“How have you been?” Hanako asks, reaching over and pinching Iwaizumi’s cheek. Oikawa is thankful his sister is a much better liar than he is. “You’ve grown up so much, you’re not the same brat I used to babysit,” she grins, and Iwaizumi can’t help but smile at her.

“I’m surviving. You look good, Hana,” he replies, and Oikawa steps towards the door as a sign they should leave. The air is still somewhat awkward, and he’d rather just be alone with his sister right now.

He doesn’t look back even as Hanako says goodbye.

He barely speaks to Iwaizumi the entire weekend, but it is nice to fall asleep and wake up with the comfort that his sister is right there.

He does feel better after a bit of time with Hanako, he missed the little snort when she laughs, or the way she gets bossy in the changing room, or how excited she gets when she spies something cute in the window. Oikawa can’t remember the last time he laughed until he was in tears.

The day was so busy that by night, he was out in a matter of moments.

He has Hanako to thank for lifting his spirits, and revamping a bit of his closet. Even though she detests it, she always caves in and lets him buy one super ugly piece of clothing; it’s Oikawa’s trademark to have a couple ugly ass pieces of clothing to lounge about in. He claims they are for the aesthetic.

“Don’t be a stranger, Tooru. Come home more often, okay?”

“Yeah, thank you for this weekend, Nee-chan.”

“When you really need me, I’ll come running. I’ll learn to fly if I have to,” she presses Oikawa’s face between her manicured hands and kisses his forehead. “Call me if you need anything?”

“Mhm.” Oikawa waits until she’s on the train, and he waits even further until the train is out of sight.

He goes home that night, happier than he’s felt in a while. He sits in new pajamas that his sister bought for him, smiling into the fabric of the sweater because it’s frumpy—the way he likes them—and it’s speckled with stardust that glows in the dark.

He holds onto the happiness the best he can, drowning out everything else with music.

He won’t let anything eat at him tonight, not Nakagawa, not Iwaizumi, not even condom wrappers stuffed into the bathroom trash. Nope, not a bit, nothing can ruin his high right now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You still have your skates, right?” Iwaizumi asks.

Oikawa looks up from his sketchbook. “My...ice skates?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I’ve got them. Why?”

“Get them out, we’re going skating.”

“You hate ice skating, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa states, and Iwaizumi yanks Oikawa roughly by his collar out of his chair.

“I’ll take you ice skating, hell I’ll take you fishing. But we are hanging out today. Damn it, I haven’t talked to you in forever.”

Oikawa feels a weird pulse run beneath his skin, like electricity when Iwaizumi’s skin touches his own. How long has it been since they touched? Talked? Spent time together?

Oikawa wrinkles his nose, despite the fluttering in his chest. “Fishing is gross.”

“Get your damn skates.”

  


* * *

 

 

Iwaizumi is wobbly, clinging hard to the wall while Oikawa glides nearby. “The best way to get used to it is to let go of the wall, Iwa-chan,” he grins, and Iwaizumi glares at him from over his scarf.

“Just go, I’ll catch up to you.”

“No way, I’m having fun watching you wiggle and wobble like a child,” Oikawa snickers. They’ve done this before, as kids. Oikawa would glide around the rink like he’d done it for ages, Iwaizumi would teeter against the wall until he felt steady enough to skate around. Iwaizumi was always a quick learner, so in no time flat was he able to go around the rink without fail, it just took him a little while.

“Hey, Iwa-chan… why didn’t you bring Aki-chan?”

“Today isn’t about him. It’s about us,” Iwaizumi grunts, pushing away from the wall with a huge breath of effort. He stumbles into Oikawa, latching onto his hands instinctively. Oikawa grips him tight and holds him upright. He can’t recall the last time he looked at Iwaizumi straight like this, and now he remembers why.

His short and jagged hair, soft despite its looks, his dark eyes that twinkle when he’s happy, that adorable nose he swears that he hates, a red button in the middle of his face. Oikawa measures his expression, looking for the sign that it’s okay to start skating him around the rink. But all he gets is sincerity, silent “I missed you’s” barraging him through an intense gaze.

Oikawa breaks it first. “Did you two fight?”

“Not recently,” Iwaizumi shrugs, and when he looks at Oikawa again, the brunet knows it’s safe to start moving. He steps backwards, slow, bringing them around the bend of the rink and to the straight.

“You’ve fought before?”

“We aren’t perfect. But stop bringing him up, Oikawa.”

“I just don’t get it—”

“I can’t miss you? Jesus,” Iwaizumi snaps, the tips of his ears burning. “We’re roommates, we are _best friends_. Maybe we should start acting like it, yeah?”

Oikawa feels the crimson giveaway creep across his skin as well. “Yeah,..”

They go around the rink two, three times in quiet, nothing but simple stares and silent apologies. They used to tell each other everything, no matter how big or small. Oikawa used to hear about Iwaizumi’s entire days every day, from sun up to sun down. He couldn’t even recall the last time he’d seen him go to bed.

“I missed you too, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says after the fourth time around.

The fifth time around he drops Iwaizumi, and the seventh, Iwaizumi clumsily chases after the brunet around the rink. Oikawa startles himself as he squeals with laughter, and the two of them collide in a heap in the center rink. Flushed with red, so cold their breath comes out in thick clouds, they can’t stop smiling at each other as they whirl around the skating rink.

It doesn’t stop there. As they clamber off the ice, thighs sore and lungs burning, they head straight for food. It feels like old times as they catch up over burgers and fries, shit food that clogs arteries but makes for great conversation.

Iwaizumi got promoted. Not anything big, but he gets a better office, still small but at least it isn’t a crappy cubicle. He actually gets to hire his own team now, in the midst of reviewing applications and selecting people.

Oikawa is assistant on a new project, getting credit for half of the work that goes in. His storyboards have really taken off and been a hit at the office.

Back at the apartment they set up a fort in the living room and line up a movie marathon collection full of sci-fi’s and b-rated slasher films, complete with popcorn.

It feels like old times, like the beginning college days, when they hadn’t met anybody else to go outside and hang out with yet, so they stuck with each other, cramming pizza into their faces and reviewing homework while blood curdling screams and chainsaws went off in the background.

“I missed you,” Oikawa says again, and Iwaizumi reaches around and ruffles his hair.

“It felt weird, not having you around as much. I didn’t like it.”

Oikawa blinks, watching Iwaizumi lean back on his palms. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I used to wonder a lot what would happen if we ever went our separate ways, and back then I thought it’d be easier. Or maybe...if we did it on a good note?” Iwaizumi frowns at himself, his eyes crossing and lips pursing, the way he does when his brain scrambles ardor and logic and spews them out tactlessly. “Agh, I don’t make any sense.”

Oikawa clutches the pillow tighter against his chest, the floating feeling attacking his limbs first. He presses the pillow harsh into his diaphragm to keep his grips on gravity. “I don’t want to go our separate ways...though?”

“Neither do I.”

“Aki-chan says if a pair is friends for longer than ten years, they’re soulmates.”

Iwaizumi chuckles. “I didn’t need some spiritual advice to figure out you’re my soulmate.”

Oikawa’s stomach drops. The last bit of him that clings to any gravitational force is his heavy heart. Thankfully that won’t break loose as easy as the rest of him.

“Iwa-chan… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I gave Aki-chan a hard time, he’s a good person. And I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend when you needed me.”

Iwaizumi peers out from the side, looking away from the blood spatter on the TV to see Oikawa bundled against pillows. “I’m sorry I neglected you. I never meant to replace you. You always come first. Remember that,” he draws his thumb beneath Oikawa’s eye, and it isn’t until then Oikawa realizes his water works have turned on again.

“Sheesh, my tear ducts are out of control,” Oikawa whines, but they don’t stop, and the tremors in his chest snap his heart from its bearings. He doesn’t want to feel it, being on cloud nine, at least not around Iwaizumi.

As hard as he tried to suppress his feelings, he thought he could do a better job than this. But a few words and touches and he’s putty between Iwaizumi’s fingers. He missed him. He missed his Iwa-chan, the one that cussed him out for skipping out on chores, the one that laughed with his entire body at Oikawa’s brilliant optimism, the Iwa-chan that constantly reminded him he was a pillar of strength, personally for Oikawa and Oikawa alone.

“Don’t run from me again, you hear me?” Iwaizumi mutters into the top of his head, “I’ll seriously kick your ass.”

Oikawa falls asleep that night, tucked tight against Iwaizumi’s chest, asleep in the junction of his neck and shoulder. He slept like a rock that night, and waking up in his own bed reminds him he hasn’t descended from the euphoric clouds. A dangerous place to be in, but at the moment, worth it.

  


* * *

 

 

“How often does he fight with Nagamaka?”

“It’s _Nakagawa_ ,” Oikawa corrects. Matsukawa shrugs and yawns. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Be nice, none of this is his fault,” Oikawa murmurs, his eyes lowering, “I guess they’ve argued, probably a healthy amount. About usual things, you know?”

Hanamaki grows rigid beside Oikawa, and Matsukawa catches it first before he can brush it off like he didn’t react. “I saw that. Makki, spill.”

Hanamaki hisses with hesitation, shifting his weight and sitting up. “I really shouldn’t… but we’ve already said so much. I’m just surprised you don’t know about it.”

Oikawa looks up, almost desperate to know what Hanamaki has to say. Hanamaki cards through his short hair and sighs, squeezing hard at the back of his neck. “Uhm… the fights… were about a lot of things. Time, distance, boundaries, se—” Hanamaki bites his tongue on that last one. “But they had one big fight… like, _big_. It was about you.”

“Me?” Oikawa shoots up, appalled. “Aki-chan got mad about _me_?”

“Well, more like, he feels inferior to you. I can only imagine the sting on that one.”

Matsukawa groans in understanding, flopping onto his back and twirling a candy straw between his teeth. “Some people aren’t okay being second to the best friend. That’s gotta be a tough barrier for them.”

Oikawa winces, dropping his head forward and wrapping his arms around himself. “I don’t want to be a problem for them.”

“You can’t help that, Oikawa,” Hanamaki ruffles his hair, “that’s Iwaizumi’s fault.”

“But Makki, I… we…!”

“Well that explains why it happened, then. I think.”

Oikawa swallows thick, pulling hard at his hair from the roots with a growl of frustration. The hardest part of the story is the most recent, the reason he came running to their doorstep in the first place.

  


* * *

 

 

“Oikawa! Have you seen my blue jacket? The one with the hole in the pocket?”

Oikawa taps his chin in thought as he looks around his bedroom. As clean as he keeps it, he really has a habit of misplacing things. “You mean the one with the white drawstrings?” He asks, rummaging through his closet.

“Yeah, that one.”

He comes padding over to Iwaizumi’s bedroom with the jacket in his grip, tossing it at him. “Where are you going?”

Iwaizumi yanks himself into the jacket pretty roughly, hurriedly. “Just, for a run. I haven’t gone lately.”

Oikawa leans against the door frame, folding his arms across his chest and quirking a brow in suspicion. “You only run when you’re stressed.”

Iwaizumi looks up at him as he tugs his hood into place. The rain outside is lighter today than it has been the past week. “Don’t pry. Not right now. I’ll explain when I’m not ready to punch something.”

Oikawa brings his hands up in surrender and steps out from the doorway. Iwaizumi power stomps across the space of the apartment to the door. “Be careful out there, it’s slippery.”

“I will.”

“Don’t drag too much mud back in.”

“I won’t.”

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa throws his arms around the dark brunet from behind, wrapping them tight about his neck. “I’m not asking you to tell me anything just…”

He feels Iwaizumi grip against his hands, thumbing across his knuckle bed and sighing with something that seems like relief. They don’t need words here. Oikawa silently tells him everything he needs, and Iwaizumi silently thanks him. “Hey, why don’t I pick up a case on my way back? We’ll get shit faced and eat pizza like we used to, huh?”

“I’ll start building the fort,” Oikawa grins, “I’ll even wear my star sweater!”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes.

“What, my sweater is cool!”

“Assikawa, your sweater has stars that glow in the dark.”

“But they aren’t like big gaudy stars! It’s like stardust!” Oikawa whines, and Iwaizumi grips his stomach as he laughs. “You’re like a personal planetarium.”

Oikawa feels his face going scarlet, so he turns Iwaizumi around and ushers him out the door. Once Iwaizumi is on the other side, he sinks against the wood and takes a few moments to calm down.

He prances around the apartment in his sweater, turning off all unnecessary lights and carefully crafting a fort. He calls for pizza delivery and works on lining up the selection of movies that they would love to watch while completely inebriated.

Iwaizumi comes back about an hour or so later with way too much beer and sopping wet clothes. Oikawa shoves the beer into the freezer for a quick chill while Iwaizumi showers, and perfect timing, the pizza shows up.

“Iwa-chan, hurry up!” Oikawa demands.

“Coming, coming. Did you order dessert, too?”

“Did you want me to? Those lava cakes scare me, they’re like artificially spongy.”

Iwaizumi shakes his head with a laugh and crawls into the fort, reaching for a beer and pizza. The first beer and slice go down easy, paired with a film about extreme cave diving.

“I always hold my breath when they go through those tight underwater canals,” Oikawa wrinkles his nose as he cracks open another beer.

“Would you ever do it in real life?”

“I value my life, Iwa-chan. I like risks, not insanity. Did you hear about the girl that did this shit and got sucked into a cave pocket? She died of starvation, alone, in the dark. _In a cave!_ No one could reach her, so they just kinda... _left_.”

“Holy shit, really?” Iwaizumi gasps, taking another swig of his beer. “That’s fucking scary.”

They watch as the group in the movie weave through tight spaces, deciding to leave their oxygen tanks at the camp.

“They give you oxygen tanks for a reason, why would you leave those behind?!”

Oikawa downs another slice and cracks open another beer. They watch as one girl dies off by getting sucked into some part of the cave. Oikawa just gestures his can to the screen and then looks at Iwaizumi. “Told ya. Even in the films they show it.”

Iwaizumi laughs above the rim of his can. “At least they brought a doctor with them.”

Twenty minutes later the doctor gets crushed by some falling rocks.

“Well these guys are all fucked.”

“Royally,” Oikawa adds. He leans his head back as the room slowly starts to break from its stationary position and float. The buzz has long since settled in. They bet the last slice of pizza on who they think will survive. Iwaizumi wins, and they clink cans, switching the movie over to some kind of shark terror movie.

Oikawa peeks over at Iwaizumi, watching him burst into laughter as a giant shark leaps out of the water and lunges at a guy next to him. “These films are so _bad_ ,” Iwaizumi cackles.

“Why do we watch them,” Oikawa sighs, but he giggles, giggling even more as a burp jumps past his lips. “Oh, well, I’m drunk.”

“Same here.”

They finish up the movie, and finish off the alcohol, and put another movie on. They both laugh loud and hard as they throw jokes back at each other, pointing out scenes in the movie that would never be considered funny sober. Oikawa bets Iwaizumi on who dies next, and Iwaizumi loses, trying to crush a can against his forehead.

Oikawa cackles wildly as he stumbles across the floor to put the pizza box back in the kitchen.

“Dumbass! You can’t even walk straight,” Iwaizumi vibrates with laughter, tears in his eyes as he clutches onto his stomach.

“Shaddup, _you_ try walking like you’re sober. HAH! You can’t even get off the floor, Iwa-chan! Someone can’t hold their booze,” Oikawa smiles drunkenly as he crawls back inside the fort, huddling up in the bundle of blankets.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi mumbles, fumbling into the blanket pile next to him. “How drunk are we?”

“If I asked you to run naked through the halls for twenty bucks, would you do it?”

“Debateable.”

“Then you are drunk off your ass,” Oikawa rolls over and looks up at Iwaizumi with his pearly white grin.

“I’m glad you’re not weirded out by me or anything,” Iwaizumi adds.

Oikawa’s smile slips off of his face just as fast. Though he’s drunk as hell, he totally forgot about his roommate’s alcohol capacity. Iwaizumi couldn’t handle his liquor, and he always turned into a sentimental sap. The bigger problem was, Oikawa also became a sap. “O’course not, jus cus you swap spit with guys?”

“Y’know some people think s’weird,” Iwaizumi shrugs.

Oikawa scrunches his face like there is a sour taste in his mouth.

“What?” Iwaizumi asks him, and he reaches over and pats his cheek when Oikawa takes too long to reply.

“Iwa-chan… I never told you before cus I thought...I thought you’d hate me.”

“What?”

“I’m bi, you know?”

There’s a pause.

“Oh, I know.”

“HUWHAT?!”

Iwaizumi bursts into a fit of laughter. “Oh man, I knew that a long time ago! You told me one night when you were drunk, kinda like this actually. You were like,” Iwaizumi blinks sleepily, and purrs with a lazy smile on his face. “ _Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, I gotta secret. Don’t tell anyone.”_

Oikawa laughs, despite the crimson flush across his face, and groans at the embarrassment. “Oh man, that’s so lame. You knew this whole time?”

“Yeah... “

“Wait, then what made you think I’d be upset with you for liking guys?!”

Iwaizumi shrugs, “nerves, I think. Maybe cus I don’t _look_ gay?”

“What the hell does that mean, I hate that statement.”

“That’s what Aki says,” Iwaizumi mumbles, and it makes Oikawa shoot up from the ground so hard the room spins. He leans forward and grabs Iwaizumi by either side of his head, forcing him to look him straight in the eyes.

“Aki-chan _said_ that?”

“Kind of…”

“Knew I didn’t like him for a reason,” Oikawa mutters out of the side of his mouth, “that’s a load of poop. You don’t have to look like anything. Iwa-chan is just fine as Iwa-chan. I love Iwa-chan the way he is.”

Iwaizumi smiles wide, with all of his teeth, the way he used to as a kid when Oikawa would tell him he was super cool, or when he’d finally land that new move he’d been working on for ages. The smile he used to pull when he caught the frogs down by the creek, or filled up a jar with fireflies. Back when he’d hold out his hand and wait for Oikawa, or keep a couple extra bandaids with stars and aliens on them just for Oikawa when he’s scrape his elbows and knees.

At some point they turned off the TV so they could witness Oikawa’s sweater in full effect beneath the fort.

“It’s like I’ve got the whole night sky in my hands,” Iwaizumi says, pawing at the speckles across the fabric.

“You’re such a romantic drunk, Iwa-chan.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agrees. He reaches upwards and smiles, laughing gently as he pulls Oikawa towards him. “You know I love you, right?”

Oikawa isn’t sure what washes over him.

“Iwa-chan just said he loves me,” he blinks, trying to process that it actually happened and he’s not just dreaming. He scoots forward and nestles himself in Iwaizumi’s lap, pressing the pad of his thumb against the crease between Iwaizumi’s brows.

“Don’t get used to it,” Iwaizumi sighs, tilting his head upwards.

Maybe it’s the carnal desire, maybe it’s the intoxicated overconfidence. It happens faster than he can register, and it’s everything he could have asked for, soft, gentle. It feels natural, the kiss, slow and a little bit lazy, like they’ve been doing it for years.

Oikawa takes a bit longer than usual to recognize that this is way off limits. “I-Iwa-chan I’m sorry, I just...I wanted to—”

All logic and reason fly out of the security of the fort when lips meet once more. “You taste like pizza,” Iwaizumi chuckles quietly against Oikawa’s lips, like he’s sharing some kind of dirty secret. It’s consensual, warm, experimental. Their teeth click together and they both laugh.

Oikawa swipes his tongue across Iwaizumi’s bottom lip and jumps a bit at the fast reaction. The lip lock grows hotter, needier, sloppier. Somewhere in their tangle, Iwaizumi’s shirt disappears, as does Oikawa’s. The brunet places hot, open mouthed kisses in a trail down Iwaizumi’s throat, rolling him back against the blanket spread.

“What are we doing,” Oikawa whispers.

“Something stupid,” Iwaizumi whispers back, and neither of them say anything further. There isn’t one protest as hips roll together in heated friction. No one says anything as Oikawa scrambles in a frenzy to grab a bottle of lube in his bedside drawer, falling over himself twice on the way back. There aren’t complaints, only pleasure.

Oikawa never thought he would hear what Iwaizumi sounded like, pliant like putty in his hands. He never thought Iwaizumi would be so controlling either. He gasps as teeth bite hard against his neck. “Ah—ow! Iwa-chan!”

“Sorry. Sorry, mark me too.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s really hot,” Iwaizumi mutters, and makes up for his embarrassment my slamming against Oikawa’s prostate.

They tangle, they wrestle, they fuck, _hard_. Oikawa is a moaning mess with his ass high in the air and Iwaizumi’s shaft barreling inside of him, leaving bites and heavy kisses across the planes of his back. Iwaizumi is more vocal than Oikawa thought he would be as he pounds him against pillows, hips aching but cocks throbbing and minds scrambled and snapped from any sense of reality.

It feel easy, natural, good, like it’s supposed to be this way. They move in sync, they respond almost automatically to each other, save for a few clumsy moments of inexperience. It’s nothing close to perfect, neither of them are that talented, but the thought alone of romping underneath a fort with alcohol warm in their bodies heightens the mood.

“I love you, _fuck,_ I love you so much,” Oikawa blurts in a mess of intoxication from both alcohol and lust. “I’ve wanted to tell you for years and I…!” He shakes and quivers as he comes white hot across his skin and Iwaizumi’s.

Iwaizumi slumps over exhausted, sore, sensitive. He loops his arms around Oikawa loosely as he lies down next to him, licking a moan out from his throat as his hand ghosts across Oikawa’s hypersensitive cockhead. “We’re so fucked.”

“You love me?” Iwaizumi asks, though he can barely keep his eyes open.

Oikawa nods weakly, yawning, eyes heavy with sleep. “You’re so slow, Iwa-chan.”

  


* * *

 

 

Oikawa scrapes hard at his skin in the shower, rubbing furious circles against the marks to get them to disappear.

It can’t be like this, this couldn’t have actually happened. And yet, the evidence is all over him. He woke up in a haze sometime in the afternoon, sticky, eyes bleary and body sore as hell, clothes discarded around him and worst of all, Iwaizumi draped next to him. He looked peaceful in his sleep, breathing softly, body covered in marks made from Tooru’s teeth, chest rising and falling slowly.

He looked like he belonged here.

Oikawa didn’t have much time to admire the scenery, the realization of what occurred last night slammed into him like an out of control eighteen wheeler. “Fuck,” he hissed, scrambling the quietest he could to get out of the fort.

He’s afraid to get out of the shower, especially because he knows Iwaizumi is probably awake by now.

Oikawa considers getting changed and dashing out of the apartment at a blinding speed. He could get somewhere pretty quickly, maybe go home, maybe go to Mattsun and Makki’s. No, how does he explain that he fucked his best friend senseless last night over some alcohol? It would sound like his fault.

Oikawa groans against the wall after tiring out from scrubbing his skin raw. The water is lukewarm by now, and he cuts it off, hopping out and taking a towel across his skin. He pulls himself into a long sleeve, pants, socks that are long enough to hide any other grips.

He steps out from the bathroom and looks around, seeing the apartment quiet. The coast looks clear. Maybe Iwaizumi left?

“What. The. Hell.”

Nope. Iwaizumi comes beelining out of his bedroom, eyes wide and nostrils flared, anger riddled in his every pore as he reaches for Oikawa’s collar and slams him against the wall. “ _What, is this?!”_

Oikawa cringes, feeling Iwaizumi’s knuckle bed dig deep into a bruise against his chest. “Ow, Iwa-chan that hurts—!”

“Don’t fuck with me, Oikawa! What is this?! What the fuck did you do?!”

“Me? That’s _rich_ , blaming _me_ for this,” Oikawa rolls his eyes. His confidence shatters as Iwaizumi’s fist cracks across his jaw. The one thing Iwaizumi _never_ did was hit him like this. Not with a closed fist, not seriously.

Oikawa only reacts. He comes back, driving his fist full force and digging it straight into the curve beneath Iwaizumi’s eye. It’s a good hit, it sends him stumbling, makes his eyes water, it’ll bruise. “Fuck you!” Oikawa snaps, lunging forward and tackling Iwaizumi against the other wall.

“You have to make everything about you, don’t you?!”

They tangle violently, but Iwaizumi wins, shoving Oikawa backwards to create some distance. He huffs hard, wiping away the blood on his lip, measuring how bad his black eye is going to be. “Why? Why’d you do it?”

“Quit acting like I forced you against your will,” Oikawa snarls, “we both got into this.”

“Quit lying to save your ass—” Iwaizumi goes silent as Oikawa pulls his shirt up to his neck, revealing an unhealthy amount of bites across his skin, raw and red. His eyes go wide at his damage, his stomach knots and twists. The anger is suppressed with guilt.

“You’re such an asshole, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa shakes his head, “this whole time you knew about me, you assumed I wouldn’t understand you and you _knew_.”

“Because you’re petty. You’re a child, always getting possessive over shit that’s not yours! You always make everything about you!”

Oikawa shakes his head, bringing a hand across his chest to swipe away the burning sensation across the bites on his skin. This is out of control, and he feels like it’s only going to get worse.

“Gods… never thought if I fucked up it’d be with _you_ of all people. How the hell do I explain this…”

There it is. The slap to the face Oikawa needs. Iwaizumi is never going to see him this way. Last night was the closest he got, and Oikawa has every inkling to blame the intense sex on some kind of vulnerability. Maybe Iwaizumi is having trouble with Nakagawa; it would make sense.

“I don’t care,” Oikawa replies. He goes to march off, but Iwaizumi snags him backwards. “No, you’re not running from this. _Look at me_ , Oikawa!”

Oikawa reaches back and claps Iwaizumi’s hand off of his shoulder. His gaze is back, the one that’s cold, harsh, piercing like daggers into Iwaizumi’s skin. “Don’t touch me. Don’t say that. I’m so over this high school bullshit. You want a reality, _Hajime_? You _fucked_ me into that floor so hard I couldn’t even see straight. And I did the same. You cheated. I didn’t seduce you. So quit looking for some excuse! Go explain to your precious Aki-chan that you can’t keep your shit together.”

“Go fuck yourself, you’re just as much at fault as I am.”

“You don’t think I know that?!”

“If you knew it was wrong then why did you go through with it?!”

Oikawa feels his scalp prickle and tears sting behind his eyes. His chest tightens, his throat locks up, dry and scared. Iwaizumi won’t let him run, but he’d rather hurl himself from the nearest window than stand here and deal with this. He can’t tell him. If he tells him, it’s over. Everything is over.

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asks, voice a bit softer now. He sees Oikawa panicking, and he’s not so much an asshole as to bypass Oikawa’s anxiety. “We tell each other everything. What else do we possibly have to hide?”

Oikawa wraps his arms around himself and leans away, biting hard on his trembling lip. “Y-You’d rather not know. It’s...you don’t need to know.”

“ _Oikawa_.”

“I love you,” Oikawa hisses. He pulls his hands through his hair and steps back from Iwaizumi’s outstretched hand, attempting poorly to clear off the loose tears on his face. “You don’t know me as well as you think, Iwa-chan… I’m in love with you, I have been since middle school.”

He watches Iwaizumi’s face contort into the expression he never wanted to see. The shock that his best friend has been disgustingly in love with him for years and he never knew. The guilt over being so oblivious to it. The anguish because he doesn’t feel the same.

“It’s gross, yeah? Well now you know. How could I resist you... I can never resist you.”

“Oikawa you… but Aki... you never said anything—that’s why you were mad,” Iwaizumi looks pained, sickened. He slumps back against the wall and stares at the floor.

“I’m not childish enough to sabotage your feelings for the sake of mine, Iwa-chan. I swore I’d support you no matter who you loved.”

Iwaizumi looks up at him, jaw open to say something, but the words don’t come. Oikawa knows what he wants to say, though. They’re good like that, they remember, picking up each other’s words and feelings.

The silence grows heavy. Oikawa hates the tension in the air, so much that he looks at the door like it might be his saving grace.

“Don’t leave,” Iwaizumi begs, “you always run. Don’t run from me.”

“At least let me be angry. I finally got you to look at me, _only_ me in God knows how long, and my shitty consolation prize was some drunken pity sex. And I’m _happy_ about it,” Oikawa swipes his hands across his bleary eyes again. “I wish I could hate you, so much. Gods I do.”

Oikawa spins around and grabs his wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” Oikawa answers, truthfully. He hasn’t decided where he’s going yet, he just knows he needs to be away from here, as far away as he can get.

“Will you come back?”

“What do you care?”

“Hey! As fucked up as all of this is, you’re still my best friend! You’re the most important person to me, you know that,” Iwaizumi offers, “I know...that sounds bad right now but—”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be,” Oikawa mutters, eyes cold as he looks back at his roommate. Iwaizumi hates that expression, the angry one. It lacks in everything warm and it feels so wrong. Iwaizumi hates that look, because he feels far from Oikawa, like their history doesn’t matter, like _he_ doesn’t matter.

Oikawa is out of the apartment in a flash. He hails a taxi and rattles off an address, the first one coming to mind being Matsukawa’s. “That’s quite a drive,” the driver mutters. Oikawa shrugs, “I’ve got time and money.”

He stares out the window at the sloshing rain. It’s over, everything is all over. They can’t go back to being friends, Iwaizumi will probably talk things out with Nakagawa, and come back and try and salvage some poor aspect of his and Oikawa’s relationship as a final attempt to keep him around. They both feared going their separate ways, but maybe it needed to happen. Maybe it was meant to happen.

He thought it’d be easy to let go of Iwaizumi. And if not, at least it’d be easy to move on from him. Oikawa was nowhere prepared to lose him entirely.

The driver stays completely silent as Oikawa crumbles in his backseat. He only reaches back once to hand him a pack of tissues and a small candy, and it only makes Oikawa cry harder.

  


* * *

 

 

“Iwaizumi sounded pretty fucked up over the phone,” Hanamaki mutters.

Matsukawa looks down, thumbing across Oikawa’s eyebrow, smoothing down his jawline, before he swipes his hand soothingly down his back. Oikawa finally fell asleep after another bout of tears and the rest of his story.

Hanamaki feathers his fingers through Oikawa’s hair with a small smile. “He’s pretty cute like this.”

“Yeah.”

“I can kind of see what you see in him.”

Matsukawa blinks, and he quirks a brow, reaching over a flicking Hanamaki between his eyes. “That was a long time ago, _baka_. I’m not dating you for sport.”

“Ouch, I know that. But hey, you know what he’s going through, so… what would you do?”

“Hmm...I don’t think it’s the same. Oikawa’s been with Iwaizumi his whole life. It’s gotta be heavier than a simple high school crush. Although… I think he needs space. It’d be good to get away from him,” Matsukawa shrugs. “Worked for me.”

Hanamaki rubs at his eyes and checks the clock. “You should sleep, I’ll stay back with him tomorrow.”

“Lazy.”

“Not at all,” Hanamaki grins. He leans over and kisses the corner of Mattsun’s mouth before he drops down onto his pillow and pulls the blanket over him. “I feel like we adopted a child for the night,” Hanamaki says, and Matsukawa glances down at Oikawa wedged between them and sleeping soundly.

“Haven’t we always been parental figures for these two idiots, though?”

“True. What would we do without you, Momma Mattsun?”

“That’s weird.”

Makki laughs softly and curls his head closer to Matsukawa’s, drifting off into a light slumber.

  


* * *

 

 

Oikawa stays at their apartment for a few days, paying back his debt by cleaning and doing house chores. He offers to cook, and even attempts, but two burnt pots later and scrubbing melted cheese off the counter top restricts him from making a hazardous meal for both Matsukawa and Hanamaki to try enjoying.

He considers his options, weighing the pros and cons of the situation he’s in. He thinks long and hard about everything that’s happened so far, even to the point of lying in tears on the couch. His heart aches, and his head throbs. He’s tired, tired of acting like he’s perfectly okay.

It’s like his sister said. Only time and space can fix this. He has to learn to move on, be okay without Iwaizumi constantly at his side. He has to come to terms with rejection and wipe that chip off of his shoulder.

He can do it, he knows he can.

After a long talk with his sister over the phone, and another long talk with his old Seijou teammates, he grabs Matsukawa’s laptop and flips it open, starting to search for apartment listings.

  


* * *

 

 

He finds one, a pretty two bedroom two bath. The patio has a nice view, high up. It’s closer to his job, the rent is well within his budget, it’s almost a dream opportunity.

He schedules an interview with the person who posted the listing.

  


* * *

 

 

She’s cute, tiny, golden hair and eyes to match. She’s a bit of a klutz, but that might just be the nerves. Her names Yachi, and they hit it off right away. She’s like a little ray of sunshine, her smiles wide and bright.

They tell each other almost everything right then and there at that tiny coffee shop; they feel like they’ve known each other for years. Oikawa tells her about his situation, as long and lengthy as it is.

Yachi reveals that she wants to save up money for HRT. Oikawa strikes a deal. If Yachi cooks for him, he’ll help her set up a plan to revamp her wardrobe and get one hundred steps closer to her goal.

  


* * *

 

 

“I’m moving out,” Oikawa doesn’t look at him.

“Where did you go?”

“Mattsun and Makki’s.”

Iwaizumi peels himself slowly away from the corner of the counter. “You’re living with them?”

“No. I found a roommate somewhere else. Close to work. So.”

Iwaizumi rubs the nape of his neck awkwardly, pulling his hand out of his pocket. “I can’t convince you to stay, can I?”

“I need this. I think it’s for the best if we just separate for a while.”

“...Yeah,” Iwaizumi nods, and presses his fingers along the blueish purple bruising beneath his right eye. Oikawa really did punch the lights out of him, he’s a bit smug about it.

  


* * *

 

 

Oikawa says nothing to him as he packs. Yachi comes over to help load things into her car. She inescapably meets Iwaizumi, and she’s polite. Iwaizumi nearly makes her combust as he reminds her of all the things to keep in mind while having Oikawa as a roommate.

“Yacchan, I’m ready,” Oikawa states, taking one last look at his bedroom. He’d been in that bedroom since freshman year of college, it feels weird to be leaving it.

“She went down to the car,” Iwaizumi mumbles.

Oikawa turns to him, hearing his voice shake and quiver, and sure as shit, Iwaizumi is glaring at his feet, trying not to cry. “You’re supposed to look up to keep tears from falling, you know?” Oikawa offers quietly.

“Shut up...I’m trying to be mature about this.”

Oikawa steps forward and brings his arms around Iwaizumi, pressing his lips into his jagged hair. It’s weird that he’s not the one ready to cry this time, but it’s also refreshing. Iwaizumi heaves a sob against his shoulder, and Oikawa feels like somewhat of a sadist. It feels good to know Iwaizumi is just as broken up over this as he is.

“Oikawa, _Oikawa—!”_

“Don’t apologize,” Oikawa tightens his grip. “We both did this all wrong.”

“Don’t...become a stranger. I’ll kill you.”

“You’re bad with threats, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa laughs softly, and presses their foreheads together.

“I don’t care what you say, you’re always going to be number one to me,” Iwaizumi chokes.

“I know. Take care of yourself.”

“She knows how to cook, right?”

“ _Yes_ , Iwa-chan. I won’t starve.”

Oikawa stays still even as Iwaizumi struggles not to cry in front of him, and fails, horribly. He accepts all of it, the snot stuffed sniffles and the broken hiccups, the hushed “please don’t go”.

“I’ll miss you too.”

“I already do,” Iwaizumi sniffs.

Oikawa flashes him one of his smiles, the ones he normally saves for just Iwaizumi alone. It shows his dimples and makes his eyes twinkle, and it’s vulnerable, saved for the one person he knows will accept it. “You cry pretty ugly too, you know?”

“Fuck you,” Iwaizumi laughs.

“Bye bye, Iwa-chan.”

Oikawa sprints down to Yachi’s car, nearly crashing into her tiny frame. She holds his hand inside the car in silence, thumbing over his knuckles and waiting for him to calm down. He’s glad he didn’t look back, because if he knows Iwaizumi as well as he thinks he does, he’s probably pulling at his hair in frustration, angrily stomping about the apartment and throwing things around.

This time, he’s wrong.

Iwaizumi feels weird. He crumbles against the shower wall, in a shitty attempt to collect his broken feelings. Oikawa always told him. “Iwa-chan is my pillar of strength.” Iwaizumi wants to badly to tell him it’s the other way around. Oikawa is the type that can stand up on his own, independent. Iwaizumi’s never been true to the air of independence that floats around him. He’s always relied on Oikawa in some way.

He knew someday he’d have to let go of his pillar. He just didn’t think it’d be today, and not like this.

  


* * *

 

 

Oikawa unpacks everything in his new room, Yachi helps him decorate and organize. She’s good at that, placing things and making them look nice. His bedroom has a nice big window, bigger than the last one. The walls are bright; it feels happier, lighter.

Oikawa keeps a box labelled Iwaizumi stuffed back in his closet. Everything centered around him should stay hidden for now, it’s easier to not think about it when he can’t see them.

Yachi lays out the ground rules of the apartment, which are pretty basic things.

It’s good. Really good.

Oikawa watches food network with Yachi on occasion and hovers around her as she cooks. She’s good at teaching, so much that Oikawa can now make simple dishes without supervision. He’s no chef, but it is a start.

Yachi watches Oikawa create sketches that look like masterpieces in a matter of minutes. They’ll spend hours next to each other in silence, drawing, sharing ideas over some tea.

On the weekends they do laundry, and run a clean sweep through the apartment.

Oikawa is thankful Yachi is both clean and artsy like he is, they make a good match.

He looks healthier, starting to work out again. His glow comes back, slowly but surely, he gets promoted again at work after a while, now running his own story board team.

He helps Yachi organize her money and set up a monthly budget, she makes it a project to give him a cookbook. It’s a cute attempt, decorated with little UFO’s and a little alien buddy with speech bubbles in the corners. She fills it with simple recipes and instructions suited to Oikawa.

He nearly cries when he unwraps the gift.

Tuesday nights are for ice cream and movies. Yachi can’t handle the slasher films and suspense thrillers that Oikawa likes, so he picks the milder things. He enjoys watching her romantic comedies and action/adventure flicks though. And they both find a mutual love for any and every Studio Ghibli film in existence.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Three months pass in a blur.

Oikawa’s cheeks are full and flushed again, his eyes sparkle like they used to constantly.

He pays a visit home to let his family know he’s alive. His parents ask about Iwaizumi. Oikawa tells them enough to get the message across, but he buries the lengthy version deep in his mind. No one else needs to know about those days, they’re in the past.

He visits both Mattsun and Makki again, more frequently. They even meet Yachi at some point. She comments on how scared she is that all of his friends are giant trees.

Oikawa thinks for a split second that he sees Iwaizumi out at the mall when he’s with Yachi, but he ducks into a store and forgets all about it. He’s not ready to face him again, not yet.

  


* * *

 

 

Iwaizumi’s birthday rolls around on the calendar. Oikawa shakes so hard he nearly drops Iwaizumi’s gift before it makes it to the mail. Yachi tries to convince him that maybe he should go see him in person, but Oikawa can’t bring it in himself to do it.

He thought about texting him, he can’t do that either. Matsukawa and Hanamaki spend Iwaizumi’s birthday with him, so he can’t feel too bad. He needed the space, he tells himself. He needed the space.

He gets a text from Iwaizumi about a week later, though.

_Thanks for the gift. You always do my birthday justice, assikawa._

Oikawa couldn’t stop smiling for two days.

  


* * *

 

 

Oikawa’s birthday comes around. Yachi surprises him with a scarf that she knitted. It’s beautiful, three toned and thick enough for the harsh winters. “I know it’s summer, but I noticed your other scarf, and good lord Tooru, it was sad,” she says.

“I love it, thank you, Hitoka-chan,” Oikawa beams at it. He loves the entire present, from the decorative box to the actual gift.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa drop by with gifts, too.

Even his sister and Takeru send him something. He gets emotional, remembering how many people has around him that love and care for him.

Iwaizumi’s gift comes in the mail, too. He must be afraid to see Oikawa as well.

The brunet tears through it quickly, getting to the card first. _Read it, you dork, you always skip the cards._

“No I don’t,” Oikawa mumbles, and pries the card open with his finger.

 

 _I’m not good at letters, but I figured this would be better than some crappy text like last time. How are you? I hope you’re doing_ ~~_good_ ~~ _well? I’m not an english major, sue me. Mattsun and Makki say you look better these days. It’s probably safe to assume that you are eating regularly. Mattsun even mentioned that you learned to cook. Well holy shit, it only took you a million years. I moved out of the old place. I know it held a lot of history for us but I think we both needed a fresh start. I got another promotion, if you can believe it. I dunno how important this stuff is to you, I’m just so used to telling you all my news. There’s a lot of other stuff that happened too, but I won’t pour it out in a letter. I miss you. I think about how you’re doing quite a bit. Maybe more than that. I’ve never been that great with gifts. You swore to me each year that you loved them, and out of good faith I believed you, but maybe that’s something else I got wrong. I hope you like the gift this year. You don’t have to force yourself to like it either, my feelings won’t be crushed or anything._

_I want to see you soon. I miss you more than I can express in this letter, so if you ever find yourself feeling up to it, I left my address at the bottom._

_Well, the point of this whole thing is for your birthday. Happy Birthday!! It feels weird this year that I’m doing this through pen and paper, and not smashing your face into cake. But all the same, I hope you enjoy your day, you deserve it. Don’t let time get away from you, you’re starting to get old._

_\- Iwaizumi_

  


Oikawa is already sniffling as he pops the box open. It’s a watch, the small kind with a delicate face. Iwaizumi knows Oikawa likes to keep the face of the watch against the inside of his wrist. His initials are placed in the center beneath the dials, the strap is a soft brown, leather, the clasp silver instead of gold.

“Time...you idiot,” Oikawa starts to cry all over again. Yachi is there to console him, even if she is a sympathy-crier. Her tiny frame works hard to hold Oikawa, and while it might be a bit of a struggle, he’s so grateful she’s here.

  


* * *

 

 

_**I think we should meet up sometime.** _

  


_Yeah? Time and place, I’ll be there._

  


_**Sunday? 10? At the coffee shop by the library? Don’t be late, Iwa-chan.** _

  


_Perfect. See you there._

_I’ll be early, you’ll see._

  


* * *

 

 

It took about thirty minutes of pep talk from Yachi to get him to come.

“You’ll be fine, this is your best friend, Tooru.”

“It’s been 9 months, Hitoka-chan…”

“And he’s been waiting patiently for you. Don’t you think this is long enough?”

So now Oikawa stands in front of the door to the coffee shop, his breath coming out in thick clouds. The late Autumn air bites hard against his skin and reddens his nose, the way it always does.

He sees him through the large windows, sitting nervously in a booth with a steaming cup between his fingers. He looks better too, filled out. Oikawa doesn’t need to peek beneath a thick peacoat to know Iwaizumi has started working out again, too.

Oikawa steps through the doors, jumping a bit when the bell chimes, and Iwaizumi’s head snaps up from the wood of the table. Their eyes meet, and every single scenario and scripted layout of this conversation goes flying right from Oikawa’s head. He wanted to make a cool entrance, but just knowing Iwaizumi sees him has him fidgeting as he walks towards the booth.

Iwaizumi jumps out of his seat and stands up to greet him. Oikawa watches the tips of his ears burn as he fumbles over a simple greeting.

“Er...hi,” Oikawa stammers.

“H-hi. How are you?”

“Good... good. Uhm… you can sit, Iwa-chan.”

Oikawa watches Iwaizumi struggle to contain his excitement. He hasn’t heard _Iwa-chan_ in almost a year. “Have you been here long?”

“Not really,” Iwaizumi shakes his head, but Oikawa can guess from the half empty coffee on the table that he probably got here thirty or so minutes ago. It’s cute, so he lets it slide.

Oikawa slides into the booth and shrugs out of his jacket, loosening the scarf around his neck. “It’s pretty,” Iwaizumi mutters, gesturing to the scarf.

“Hitoka-chan made it for me! She’s gifted that way.”

Iwaizumi half smiles. “She also taught you to cook?”

“You should see the cookbook she made me, it’s adorable,” Oikawa smiles. A waitress comes by and he places an order.

Neither of them really know where to begin, and the silence drones on for a bit longer than they both expected.

“Uhm—”

“So—”

“Oh, you go first,” Oikawa shakes his head, and Iwaizumi squeezes hard at the back of his neck.

“You look good, Oikawa. I….don’t really know where to start. Agh man this is lame,” Iwaizumi covers his face with his hands, “I thought this would go a lot smoother.”

Oikawa bites his lip to keep from bursting out into laughter. Seems like they aren’t that different after all. “Your letter said you got a promotion? Why not tell me about that?”

Iwaizumi clears his throat and nods, adjusting his seat in the booth. “Pretty big pay raise. Nicer office, I even have an assistant now. Somebody in that place really likes me,” Iwaizumi nods, “oh, I got a car. My new place is a bit farther from work. The company pays for it though, I don’t drive it much.”

Oikawa watches the tension melt from his shoulders as he continues to talk about what’s happened these past 9 months. It’s nice, hearing Iwaizumi’s voice, seeing his face. He missed him so much, more than he thought he did.

“What about you?”

Oikawa tells him about work. He tells him about how wonderful a roommate Yachi is. He tells him how much he loves the new apartment, how spacious and bright it is. He tells him a story of how he saved someone’s life on a street corner. “I felt like a hero!”

Iwaizumi laughs, clear as crystal, and it sounds like music. Oikawa feels his heart pulse hard, and it floods his face with a deep carmine color. Iwaizumi catches it, bashfully looking down at his near empty cup. He pauses to order something else, giving Oikawa a chance to calm himself. Oikawa really wishes his skin didn’t betray him so much.

“How’s Aki-chan?” Oikawa asks after a while. Iwaizumi lowers his cup back to the table, eyes slightly wide.

“Oh… I’m surprised Mattsun didn’t tell you.”

“Eh?”

“We broke up.”

Oikawa’s jaw drops open, eyebrows pushing together, but Iwaizumi stops him by jutting a hand out.

“Don’t. It’s not your fault, Don’t think that.”

Iwaizumi shrugs, casually cracking his knuckles and rolling them out like he’s preparing for a long story. “It’s nothing big, really. He couldn’t accept that you would always be more important. Plus, he was looking for someone to settle with, I wasn’t ready for that. So I ended things. That was a while ago…not too long after you moved out, actually.”

“You sure it’s not because of… what happened?”

“I told him everything. He was angry, yeah, more understanding than I thought he’d be.”

“He really cared about you, you know.”

“I know,” Iwaizumi nods, and the smile that pulls at his lips is smaller, a pity smile.

Oikawa nods slowly, taking a long swig of coffee and letting the burn against his tongue swallow unnecessary words. Iwaizumi relaxes his chin in the palm of his hand and raises a brow at the movement. “I know you didn’t like him, Oikawa.”

“He was just too perfect for you, is all.”

“Yeah, he was, honestly,” Iwaizumi agrees. Oikawa meant to use that as a jab to make him feel bad, but now he just feels like an asshole.

He didn’t mean it.

Iwaizumi deserves the best.

“So what now?”

Oikawa looks at Iwaizumi carefully. “What do you mean?”

“I missed you… and now that you’re here I don’t know what to do with you.”

They both start laughing. 9 months later and they feel like strangers.

“Time, I think. Let’s give it time, yeah?”

Iwaizumi nods slowly, but Oikawa can see the elation written in his eyes, the twinkle he gets when he’s excited about something. “Yeah,” Iwaizumi agrees.

  


* * *

 

 

They start slow, meeting for coffee during free time throughout the week. It graduates to dinners, and at some point down the line they start to spend time at each other’s apartments.

Iwaizumi gets along well with Yachi. He constantly offers to help her around the apartment, feeling a little useless just being a pampered guest.

Oikawa sees Iwaizumi’s place. It’s a spacious one bedroom, he even got himself a cat. She’s pretty, a deep gray color, and she takes to Oikawa pretty well. Micci, Iwaizumi calls her.

Iwaizumi is careful not to overstep a boundary with Oikawa. He hesitates over the little things, like reaching to smack Oikawa over something he says, or slinging an arm around him casually. Oikawa appreciates it, and he finds it kind of adorable, watching Iwaizumi shift and squirm to accomodate. He almost forgot about how much Iwaizumi cares for him.

Oikawa stops short one day as Iwaizumi calls out to him from the skating rink. “Iwa-chan...you’re not wobbly!” He looks flabbergasted, seeing Iwaizumi stand and glide perfectly on his feet.

Iwaizumi looks away bashfully as he slides to a stop right before Oikawa. “I...came here a lot.”

Oikawa’s silence makes Iwaizumi panic. “It helped me think, okay? I wanted to keep up with you if we ever went again, so…”

As Iwaizumi’s face flushes red, it gets even worse when he feels Oikawa’s arms slide around his neck and hold tight. “A-Assikawa! I almost fell just now!”

He goes quiet when Oikawa grips even tighter, so much that it’s a little hard to breathe. “I missed you… I missed you so much.”

Oikawa almost cries right there when he feels Iwaizumi hug back just as tight, if not tighter. “You’re gonna break my back, Iwa-chan.”

“S’fine, just don’t let go for a second,” he mumbles, and Oikawa nods. It’s become a new thing for them now, the whole crying into each other’s shoulders deal. Neither of them mind it.

  


* * *

 

 

“You still have that damn sweater?” Iwaizumi asks, watching Oikawa pick at the fabric. It glows in the dark just a bit, contrast to the dim light of Iwaizumi’s apartment.

He passes Oikawa a cup of hot chocolate and drops onto the couch next to him. “It’s a good sweater, even you liked it.”

“That’s true, I still do,” Iwaizumi pokes at a cluster of stars that are faintly glowing against Oikawa’s side.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Oikawa asks, and Iwaizumi stares at him, hesitant.

“It can wait.”

Oikawa sets his drink down on his coaster and turns to face Iwaizumi. “Iwa-chan.”

“I don’t want to push you through any—”

Oikawa grabs him by his sleeve and smiles. “It’s okay. You can tell me anything.”

It’s been three months since they started spending time together again. They’ve taken it day by day, even through the holidays, giving each other time to grow used to being around one another again. Oikawa could almost say they’re back to normal, but they’re not quite there, yet. Lately Iwaizumi has been more hesitant than usual, and while Oikawa thought they cleared that barrier, something is keeping him from taking that last step forward.

Iwaizumi adjusts himself on the couch so he’s now facing Oikawa as well. “Before I start with any of this… I want you to know it’s okay to tell me otherwise. I want you to tell me everything. We promised we wouldn’t hide from each other anymore, right?”

“Right.”

Iwaizumi let’s go of Oikawa’s hands and folds them together in his lap. “You’ve always called me your pillar of strength. Well...it’s the same for me, too. I’ve always relied on you, and I think if we ever had to part ways for good, you would be better off than me.”

“I don’t—”

“Hush,” Iwaizumi snips. Oikawa clamps his mouth shut.

“We’ve been together all our lives, so by timeline alone I just kind of assumed you would always be there. I thought about you leaving one day, but not seriously. I thought about it long and hard, the idea of you being in a relationship with someone else and… I hated it,” Iwaizumi wrinkles his nose. “Not having enough time for me, or putting me first, the thought of it alone pissed me off.”

Oikawa remains completely silent, more so because now he has nothing to say.

“You’re annoying, you’re petty, and selfish. And you’re clingy. But that’s the Oikawa I know. And I felt really disgusted with myself because I kept thinking, _That’s my Oikawa_.”

He rubs the nape of his neck and shakes his head, “I think I understand a little bit more of how you felt.”

Oikawa takes a long sip of his hot cocoa, watching Iwaizumi crack his knuckles. Though nothing pops, just the movement alone seems to relax him a bit.

“I always tell you you’re the most important person to me. It’s true. There’s never going to be another person in this world that means as much to me as you do. The whole soul mates thing is probably real. So… what I’m saying is…”

Oikawa blinks, his heart beginning to stutter, his hands growing clammy.

“Oikawa I think I—”

“Don’t!” Oikawa reaches forward and clamps his hands over Iwaizumi’s mouth. His eyes are wide, lip trembling, “Don’t say things you don’t mean,” Oikawa snaps, his voice growing cold. That unrelenting expression fills his eyes again. “You don’t get to do this to me. It’s not fair.”

Iwaizumi carefully pries Oikawa’s hands away from his mouth, looking up at Oikawa solemnly. “Okay, I won’t say anything.”

“Idiot! You’re not supposed to say that, either.”

“I know,” Iwaizumi sighs, and he reaches up, drawing his thumbs underneath Oikawa’s eyes. “I’m a pretty awful guy, doing this to you,” he mumbles, “but I think, all this time, it might have been you. I just didn’t want to see it that way. I don’t...know for sure. I need more time to figure it all out. But, will you stay with me until I do?”

Oikawa nods, “of course, you idiot. We’re gonna stay together no matter what.”

Iwaizumi smiles, tucking the brunet against his chest and exhaling with relief into his hair. He smells like lavender, he always smelled like lavender. It’s comforting, knowing Oikawa won’t go anywhere. That he’ll always have his pillar of strength, no matter what.

“Oikawa, this time, if you run from me, I really will kill you.”

“You mean it this time?” Oikawa asks with a laugh.

Iwaizumi secures him tight against him and furiously starts to tickle his sides, watching the brunet squeal with laughter. “Stop, I’m gonna pee! Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi laughs and lets him go, wiping away any remaining tears from the brunet’s eyes.

It’s not perfect. It’s all kinds of fucked up and twisted and full of stitches and broken things. But it’s theirs, their friendship. The one they understand the best. From five years old, frog catching and tossing volleyballs to twenty six and sharing life stories over coffee, they’ve stuck it out.

Regardless, it’s some kind of love, and they’ll be together even as they sort that out, too.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this one! I cried lots while writing it oh jinkies. Unrequited love everywhere. Also, I really love Oiyachi friendship, I think they would both be really good friends for each other :)
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! So are bookmarks holy cookies those always make me so happy.
> 
> Reach me at my [tumblr](http://fukuchan.god.jp) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/tendousatori)


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